


sweater weather blues

by Aenaria



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: And Other Shenanigans, F/M, Holiday Fic Exchange, IT'S SO FLUFFY, New Jersey, Secret Relationship, Ugly Holiday Sweaters, bring a toothbrush, complete with christmas eve parties, look that state deserves its own tag by now, very very late holiday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 13:52:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17602577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aenaria/pseuds/Aenaria
Summary: “Why are you hiding in a closet texting me pictures of your cleavage?”Darcy should know by now that any Christmas Eve that starts with her hiding out in a closet to avoid her relatives at a party will never, ever end well.  At least Steve is more than willing to be her knight in battered and sturdy armor, even if the worst enemies they’ve got to face are a sprained ankle and, of course, New Jersey.A very, very belated entry for the 2018 Shieldshock holiday exchange - thanks to breakfasttako for the prompts!





	sweater weather blues

**Author's Note:**

  * For [breakfasttako](https://archiveofourown.org/users/breakfasttako/gifts).



> A very incredibly late happy holidays to breakfasttako, who requested the following prompts for the ShieldShock Holiday fic exchange: 
> 
> “1. Holiday party shenanigans  
> 2\. Rigged Secret Santa  
> 3\. In the ER after holiday mishaps
> 
> *a million bonus points if there are ugly holiday sweaters*” 
> 
> I couldn’t get the secret santa in there, but I hope I have lived up to the other prompts and put a smile on your face! There are also plenty of ugly and not so ugly sweaters to be had, and Darcy is damn proud of hers.
> 
> Thanks to Meri and Dizzy Redhead for beta services and helping me whip this piece into shape and getting it out to the world before January’s done. You guys are amazing.
> 
> (While I may make a little bit of fun of New Jersey in here, it’s all out of love. I’ve spent too many years living in this state not to make fun of it at this point…)

_ “Why are you hiding in a closet texting me pictures of your cleavage?” _

Darcy knows full well that Steve can’t see the grimace that crosses her face, but it’s hard to fight it back.  “Because my cousins are crazy and I can’t take much more of this party. Why did I think this was a good idea again?”

_ “Because your parents are going out of town for Christmas and this is the only time you’re going to see them in the next couple of weeks,” _ Steve points out as Darcy rummages around the shelves and finds the bag of M&Ms Aunt Clarice always hides behind the soup cans.   _ “That and you said they promised you if you went to the party with them you could stay home on Christmas Day instead of going to your aunt and uncle’s again and dealing with ‘the crazies’ all by yourself,”  _ Steve finishes, just as Darcy scoops some of the candy into her mouth.

“Uh-huh,” she mumbles around the chocolate.  “How goes the Christmas Eve party to end all parties, according to the world of Tony Stark?” Darcy fires back.  The long stream of bitching Steve had unleashed over the phone the night before in regards the plans Tony had concocted for the event floated to the front of her brain.  She’s lucky that her parents didn’t hear her laughter at Steve’s expense all the way down the hall - the walls of her childhood bedroom are notoriously thin.

_ “It’d be better if you were here.  I haven’t been cornered under the mistletoe yet, but Thor’s broken out a cask he brought from...somewhere and is passing around a flask, so who knows what could happen.” _

She can feel the grimace take over her face again.  “There are public figures and media at this party, aren’t there?  Does Thor really think that’s a wise idea?”

_ “Well…”   _

Darcy groans again, shoving another handful of M&Ms in.  “Don’t overdo it, babe. The last thing you want is to spend Christmas morning nursing a hangover thanks to Asgard’s finest.”

Steve is about to say something else, but Darcy misses it entirely when the pantry door opens with a loud squeak of hinges, light from the hallway flooding inside.  “Gotta go,” Darcy sighs, wilting under her father’s pointed stare. “I’ll text you later. Bye.” She clicks the phone off, and gives her dad the sunniest grin she could muster up.

“You’re not fooling anyone,” her dad replies, raising his eyes skyward as if he’s beseeching some higher power for strength.  

“How much longer?”  She’s not whining, she tells herself.

Dad holds the door open a little bit further as Darcy shuffles out into the hall.  “Almost at presents, then dessert time. Buck up, kiddo.”

Because she is a mature adult and not a petulant toddler, Darcy decidedly doesn’t stamp her foot against the ground as she frowns.  But the temptation is a strong one. “What time is your flight again?”

“Not soon enough,” Dad says with a sigh of his own.  “Now come on.” On the way back to the living room, Dad shoots Darcy a sly look.  “So, was that anyone special on the phone?”

“Nope,” she blurts out.

“Uh-huh.  Sure.”

**********

The comedy of errors that leads to Darcy missing the NJ Transit train back to New York City almost strains belief.  Starting with the squeal of a car horn, followed by sudden, sharp yelling from the parking lot that pulls the attention of everyone nearby away from the platform for just a moment.  Then the actual train pulls into the station, leading to the rush to get to the doors...and Darcy’s ankle getting clipped by someone’s heavy rolling bag in the process. 

She feels her ankle bend in the wrong direction, and she’s lucky that she manages to fall onto the bench next to her instead of smacking straight onto the cold concrete of the platform, but it’s still more than enough to knock the wind out of her.  By the time she’s got enough of her wits about her to move again, the train’s already pulled out, snow’s starting to fall, leaving Darcy alone on the platform with no idea when the next train will to show up, and her wallet unable to fathom just how much it would cost to take a cab all the way to her parents’ house deep in Queens.

Luckily, Red Bank, New Jersey isn’t exactly the boondocks. Even on Christmas Eve Darcy can see that the cafe across the street from the train station is still open and welcoming.  The walk to it quickly becomes near unbearable, however, shooting pains going all up her leg with every step and an increasing inability to put weight on her foot. “This won’t end well,” she mutters to herself as she hobbles along.

It’s too late to call her parents, also - they’re well on their way to Newark Airport by now, and she won’t wreck their plans for a two week cruise around the Caribbean just because she twisted her ankle.  At least the coffee smells amazing, welcoming her as she walks through the door. Darcy sniffs the air as she limps up to the counter, letting the familiar scents soothe her soul, even if they can’t do anything for the ache in her foot.  “You okay?” the barista asks, ringing up Darcy’s order.

Darcy opens her mouth to answer, but instead she hisses sharply as she puts her weight wrong on her foot and the shooting pains happen again.  “I’ve been better,” she says. “You know where the nearest clinic is where I can get this checked out?”

Because, if anything, it’ll be cheaper to get to the doctor’s office to get her bum ankle wrapped up than cabbing it back to the city.  She’ll worry about the rest later.

**********

Once upon a time, back during the war when the Commandos had spent more time sitting around waiting for something to happen rather than actually fighting, Steve remembered Howard saying that he’d planned on buying a big ol’ mansion smack in the middle of Manhattan.

“Right by the park,” he’d said, tossing a card onto the table that had made Bucky groan loudly and start swearing.  “That’s how you know you’ve made it, when you can get north of Times Square.”

And wouldn’t you know, he’d managed to do it, Steve marveled as he found himself stepping onto one of the balconies that lined the outside of the mansion.  There was no way Howard could have foreseen this, as much of a futurist that he was, he thinks as he sees the spread of Central Park and the sparkling city lights before him.  

Christmas or not, New York City is always well lit, lights breaking hazily through the darkness and the softly falling snow to scream out into the void of the universe.  And yet, out here on the balcony, even within the whole swirling mess of the city, there is a sense of peace to be found, one that settles into Steve’s soul and fills some of the gaps still inside of him.  

To be fair to Tony and Pepper, the Christmas Eve charity event wasn’t terrible, not at all.  The casual vibe was helped along by warm, crackling fireplaces and heavy greenery turning the spaces into something resembling a cozy lodge in the mountains instead of a city mansion’s ballroom.  Ugly sweaters were, apparently, also a requirement, but that was a little too much for Steve’s tastes. He’d gone for a festively patterned cardigan instead, one that Darcy had picked out for him after he’d nixed the first spectacularly tacky sweater she’d found.

“Trying to shirk your civic duty by hiding out up here?” 

Steve turns and spots Clint walking out onto the balcony, beer in hand and a smirk on his face.  “Nah. Just stealing a few minutes of peace and quiet before diving back into the gladhanding. Sam’s better at it than I am, anyway.”

“The life of a hero - save the city, then suck up to the city officials afterwards to apologize for all the property damage.”  Clint shakes his head. “I’m just here for the beer, man.”

“Uh-huh.”  Steve grins, his eyes sliding back out over the city once more.  “How many more minutes before you go back to the hotel?”

“Twenty flat.  Then I’m out just in time to tuck the kids into bed and help Laura wrap the last presents.”

“They excited to spend Christmas in the city?”

Clint nods, but before he can elaborate there’s a clatter and a burst of voices from the room inside.  They look over, spotting the swinging door in the distance, followed by the sight of Jane Foster pacing with Thor hot on her heels, phone pressed firmly to her ear, looking concerned despite the garish blue sweatshirt she’s got on proudly boasting a menorah with the words ‘Let’s Get Lit’.  “What the hell happened?” Jane says into the phone.

They look over at Thor, who shrugs back, puzzlement on his face.  

“Are you okay?” Jane continues, followed quickly by some muffled words Steve can’t quite make out.  But he can hear the tone of voice all too well, a tone that tells of more disgruntlement and frustration above all else.  “Yeah, well, dignity won’t help if you’re on crutches to get home. Any idea when they’re springing you?” A few more moments of silence go by.  “All right. I’ll head out there anyway and meet you, then we’ll drive back together...yeah, sounds good. See you soon.”

“Everything all right?” Clint asks, as Jane exhales roughly and scrubs her hands back through her hair. 

“Mostly?  My assistant, Darcy, either twisted her ankle or broke it, she isn’t sure, but missed her train and now she’s stuck in a hospital somewhere in New Jersey waiting for x-rays.”

For the briefest moment Steve’s heart drops into his stomach, but his brain manages to see past the feelings and realizes that if Darcy’s calling Jane to ask for a ride home, then she’s all right.  Even if her frustration levels have gone up enough that Steve can practically feel her angst from another state. 

Thor reaches out and puts a hesitant hand on Jane’s shoulder.  Their detente is new, Steve knows, an honest and genuine attempt to reconnect after the world went crazy for that brief moment that left a lot of hazy memories and feelings that they’d all missed something major behind them.  “Is she otherwise healthy?” Thor says.

“Healthy enough to complain about it,” Jane replies with a rueful grin and a shake of her head.  “Do you know if Stark has a car I can borrow? I need to make sure she gets home okay.”

“I can go,” Steve blurts out before his brain can catch up with his tongue.  

Jane shakes her head, pulling up some directions on her phone.  “I can go grab her, Captain. You don’t need to go out of your way just for my assistant.”

Oh, right, Jane - and technically everyone else at the compound - doesn’t know that he and Darcy have been seeing each other for a while now, though they’ve kept it as quiet as they could.  Not out of any sense of shame, but Steve does rather like having something that’s not shared with the rest of the world. At least for right now. The more he stays out of the public eye, letting the other Avengers take over the day to day saving the world duties while he sits behind a desk playing commander, the happier he is.  It’s a decent compromise. 

Still, he suspects that Darcy may be getting a little tired of the secrecy.  The plan, at least insofar as casual plans go, was to bring it up with her while they were spending a few days hiding away from the rest of the world, about going public with them as a unit rather than just two unrelated parts.  But who knows? Maybe being seen together in public in some place that’s not at all Avengers associated would raise a few eyebrows.

None of those thoughts break through on his face, however, and instead Steve just shrugs.  “I wouldn’t mind a break from making nice with all of the politicians, to be honest.”

Jane tosses her hands up in the air, almost whacking Thor in the nose. Not that he seems to mind, given the indulgent smile on his face.  “Your call if you want to deal with Christmas Eve traffic, you noble martyr. She’s at Riverview Hospital in Red Bank, New Jersey. I’ll text her to let her know someone’s heading that way to pick her up.”

“I’ll give Tony your apologies,” Clint says, a look on his face that says he knows exactly how ‘sorry’ Steve is to have an excuse to bail out of the party.

“I’ll probably owe Pepper even more of an apology, but I imagine she’ll understand.”  A few quick steps takes Steve towards the door. “Anything else I need to know before I head out?” he asks, as if he were about to tackle a difficult mission instead of picking up his girlfriend from a hospital a mere hour away.

“Drive safe,” Jane fires back.  “It’s already starting to snow in Jersey.”

**********

Before he makes his way down to the garage, Steve stops by his guest room in the mansion to grab his duffel bag.  There’s not much in there - pajamas, toiletries, a change of clothes, and the gifts he planned to give Darcy the next day.  Maybe he’ll give her one of them early; she could probably use the little pick me up.

**********

When you’re not immediately dying or suffering, Darcy is fast discovering, being in an emergency room is incredibly, unbearably boring.  Two hours into her visit, she’s had a nurse take her vitals, then been given an ice pack, a couple of ibuprofen pills, and set up on a stretcher.  The stretcher is in the middle of a hallway, of course, because Christmas Eve is a busy time even in a hospital, filled with lots of cut fingers and shopping mishaps, and a wrecked ankle is a lot lower on the triage list than the rest of those injuries.

Still, at least her stretcher is by an outlet, which is a small kindness, she thinks as she plugs her charger into the wall.  Jane will be there soon to join in the suffering also, which means she’s that much closer to getting out of there and getting into her comfiest pajamas.  Speaking of Jane… Darcy grabs her phone and shoots off a text: ‘ _ Bring snacks please?  The caf’s closed and I can’t hobble to the vending machines.’ _

For shits and giggles, Darcy takes a picture of her hospital intake bracelet, careful not to reveal any information that’s a little too personal.  She posts it to Instagram with the caption ‘So, how did you spend your Christmas Eve? #klutzgalore #iwannagohome #sendmesnacksplz’.

But after that last ditch attempt to amuse herself and salvage her evening, things slow down just about to a crawl.   She barely merits attention, and as long as she doesn’t have a bone poking out of her ankle, they won’t rush her to X-Rays anytime soon.  A nurse Darcy recognizes passes by, and she waves a hand, trying to flag her down as politely as she can (one of the things that Darcy knows all too well in this life is to never, ever piss off the nurses, because they’re the ones really running the hospital).  “Hi, uh, Jenna?”

The nurse turns back with a smile, shoving a small notepad in the pocket of her scrubs, festively printed with strings of multicolored lights and mini Christmas trees.  “Yes? How’s your pain?”

“As good as it can be?” Darcy says with a shrug of one shoulder.  “I was actually wondering if I could get some water? I don’t know if I can make it to the fountains.  Also, do you know when my X-Ray will be?” she blurts out in a rush. Yes, she knows she only asked a little while ago, but it was a different nurse.  

Nurse Jenna bites her lip, just slightly, and looks down the hallway, past the nurses’ station to the commotion in the emergency room.  “I can check, but it’ll probably still be a while before they take you up there.”

“Are all the crazies out tonight?”

Jenna exhales on a laugh, shaking her head.  “You have no idea. I’m pretty sure it’s a full moon, also.”  She takes a deep breath, smoothing back her ponytail. “Sit tight, and I’ll be back in a minute with that water.”

Well, it was worth a shot, at least.

**********

Eventually, Darcy dozes off on her stretcher.  Not asleep, not fully, but she’s so bored that checking out for a little bit is one of the better options she’s got.  You’d think it would be hard to doze off in such a public place, but she’s lived in a college dorm, spent time sharing close spaces with Jane  _ and _ Thor, and most recently the Avengers’ compound upstate which is  _ never  _ quiet.  She can sleep through anything at this point.  

But, sometime later that she’s not quite sure of the exact hour of, there’s a soft touch on the side of her face, the sound of her name breaking through the fog.  Darcy opens her eyes to see Steve hovering over her, looking halfway between adoring and worried beneath a snow-dusted baseball cap. “What are you doing here?” she mumbles, shifting on the stretcher and wincing when her ankle jars.

“I volunteered to come get you,” Steve says, stroking his finger down her cheek.

She smiles, but then feels her face drop into something more suspect and knowing.  “How quickly did you bail out of the party once you heard?”

“Am I that predictable?”

“When it comes to getting out of a Stark party?  Yes.” A bolt of pain goes through her ankle, and she winces again.  “Help me up?”

They get her upright, and Steve hops onto the stretcher next to her.  It’s a tight fit, and the metal creaks a little bit, but as it doesn’t collapse after the first few minutes Darcy figures it’s fine.  “They letting you out any time soon?” Steve asks, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. 

She huddles into his warmth, even though there’s still a lingering trace of the winter cold hanging on to the outside of his jacket.  “Nope. Still waiting for an X-Ray. They’re pretty certain nothing’s broken, but they want to make sure I didn’t rip some tendons or ligaments or something like that.”

“How much pain are you in?”  Steve rubs his hand up and down the arm of her sweater, fingers catching and flipping some of the decorative sequins there idly.  The sweater was partially worn because its garishness would aggravate her aunt’s delicate sensibilities, but honestly, Darcy was more than a bit in love with its shimmering rainbow sequins and dancing unicorns in santa hats.  

“Could be worse.  It’s not quite the good stuff, but they gave me some painkillers.”  Darcy stretches her leg out to the side, twisting her foot so that Steve can see the delightful swelling she’s got going on.  The nurses had managed to pry her boots off, but given the swelling and the nice, multi tonal bruises she has decorating her skin, they ain’t going back on any time soon.  “Merry freakin’ Christmas,” she sighs.

“In the meantime…” Steve pulls out a plastic bag from somewhere, and it’s all too easy to see the wrapped sandwiches inside of it.  

“God, I love you,” Darcy blurts out, all but lunging for the food.

Steve is a veritable rock in the middle of the chaos of the emergency room.  He sits there next to her on the stretcher, steady and calm, even as they watch two people involved in a car accident get wheeled in, still yelling at each other about whose fault was the whole thing even as the ER staff tries to patch up their bumps and bruises.  More than a few cooking mishaps pass by their stretcher, if she’s eavesdropping on the nurses correctly, and there’s at least one incident involving a candle that neither one of them want to think too deeply about. 

Hysterically enough, no one notices Steve’s presence there.  He’s just one more anonymous face in the background as the buzz of the emergency room happens around them.  When Nurse Jenna comes by with a wheelchair, however, she does give Steve a second look before turning her gaze towards Darcy.  “All right, you’re up next for the X-Ray.”

“Oh, finally,” Darcy groans.  She shoves herself off the stretcher before anyone can properly and gently help her into the wheelchair, because at this point she is one hundred percent DONE with waiting.  The sooner the scan is over with, the better. “Can I bring my phone?”

“You really shouldn’t.”

“I’ll hold onto it,” Steve cuts in before Darcy can object.  “Go get your scans done.”

Darcy blows him a kiss as Jenna wheels her away towards the X-Ray suit.  “Was that who I think it was?” the nurse murmurs as they get onto the elevator.

“You saw nothing,” Darcy fires back with a wink and a sly grin.

**********

Darcy has to practically scrape her jaw off the ground when she’s wheeled back from her X-Ray to find Steve sitting there on the stretcher, hair askew and holding an ice pack up to his right eye.  “What the hell happened to you?”

The hand holding the ice pack falls away, revealing a nicely colorful bruise shading his under eye like the world’s most epic dark circle.  “EMTs needed some help subduing an unruly drunk they brought in.” Steve shrugs. His gaze darts away from Darcy’s before replacing the ice pack on his eye.  “Guy got in a lucky punch. It’ll pass soon.”

With her good foot Darcy nudges the wheelchair that much closer to Steve and she rests her chin on his knee.  “You’re too good for us,” she murmurs, low enough for his ears alone.

“Nah.”  He gives her a small grin.  “Just trying to bring a little Christmas peace to the world.”

**********

Finally, when it’s well past midnight and the snow’s building up on the streets outside, Darcy is officially discharged from the ER with an air cast, a pair of jeans that have been slit up to the knees to get said air cast on, a shiny new set of crutches, and enough painkillers to keep her nice and floaty for a few days.  Steve, helpful as ever, carries her the short distance from the entryway to the car. The snow catches in his hair, shining white and gold under the lights of the parking lot, and Darcy fights back the giggles because really, ibuprofen should not make her this giddy. 

“We’re going to your parents’ place?” Steve asks, turning the engine on with a purr and a rush of circulated air against her face.

“Mmhmm,” Darcy says, drowsy.  “Head toward Queens, Rockaway, just go through Staten Island instead of the city.”  That’s the last she remembers for a while; the drive is familiar enough and the sound of the wheels with the soft susurrations of the wipers brushing the snow away are enough to set her drowsing again.

The clank of the old painted iron gate in front of her parents’ driveway brings her around again, sounding even louder than usual in the night.  Through half-closed eyes, she watches as Steve gets the gates open fully, scraping the snow into messy piles along the edges, then hustles back into the car, pulling it inside.  The next thing Darcy knows, she’s being carried up the front stoop and into the living room, warm and dark save for the twinkling of the multicolored lights on the tree taking up one of the corners.  The astringent and heady scent of pine fills the room, with an underlying hint of the cinnamon clove candles that her mother likes to burn. “Where’s your bedroom?”

“Mmm, nope.”  Darcy shakes her head, waving a hand at the couch instead.  “Leave me here. Gotta set up the air mattress so I can sleep under the tree.  No, it’s not the painkillers talking,” she says, rolling her eyes at Steve’s suspicious look.  “It’s a tradition, and it’s fun. I promise the air mattress won’t pop under you either.”

“Okay.”  The hesitancy is clear in his voice, but he puts Darcy down on the couch anyway with a kiss to the crown of her head.  “I’m going to go get the rest of our things out of the car.”

Even hobbling around on one good leg, it doesn’t take Darcy long at all to get their bed set up.  Her parents were kind enough to leave the oversized air mattress and blankets rolled up beneath the tree, and plenty of clear space on the floor so that they can rest comfortably.  A few minutes later the mattress is fully inflated, and the blankets are laid out, providing them with a nice, warm cocoon to hole up in while the snow rages on outside.

Then, a bow on top of one of the presents gives her an idea.  

By the time Steve is finally done bringing in all of the stuff from the car and done the rounds of the house, making sure all of the doors he can find are firmly locked and barred, Darcy’s enacted her plan.  When Steve turns the corner back into the living room he stops dead in the entryway, and Darcy can’t help but giggle her head off.

She knows she’s a sight right now, splayed out on the air mattress wearing nothing but her ugly sparkle Christmas sweater, a pair of undies with little cartoon mistletoe sprigs all over them, a red holo bow stuck to the top of her head, and a green ribbon decorating her air cast where it’s propped up on a pile of pillows.  “Merry Christmas,” she laughs.

“Is this my present?” he asks, shucking off his snow soaked shoes and pants and draping them over the end of the couch to dry. 

“Mmmm, one of them.  Gotta unwrap me to find out.”

“A very, merry Christmas, indeed.”

Gingerly, Steve settles on the air mattress next to Darcy, clearly trying his hardest not to send her rolling off into the pine needles.  It’s a slightly awkward fit, Steve isn’t a small man by any stretch of the imagination, and it’s a balancing act for two people to sleep on an air mattress on a good day.  

For all his bulk, however, Steve is also exceedingly flexible (Darcy can vouch for this first hand) and it doesn’t take much for him to maneuver himself so that his head rests on the pillow next to Darcy’s, staring up through the pine needles watching the lights glint off of the ornaments, reflecting rainbows back on them.  “It’s an interesting perspective,” he murmurs, flicking his eyes over to hers.

“It’s tradition,” she whispers back with a soft smile, tilting her head so she can catch the reflections of the lights in her glasses in just the right way that they seem to explode into tiny little shards in the corner of her eyes, turning those rainbows into bright fireworks for the briefest moments.  “As a kid I would sneak out of my room and come downstairs to wait under the tree, trying to stay awake for as long as I could just so I could catch Santa in the act. Course, I always,  _ always _ fell asleep, but I had to keep trying, every year.  Eventually, it just became something fun we always did, putting out the gifts and setting up the sleeping bags underneath the tree and watching the lights as we fell asleep.”  

Darcy shifts slightly, just enough so that she can prop her chin up on Steve’s shoulder.  “So, even as an adult, whenever I can get home for Christmas, which is more often than not, I set up a bed under the tree and fall asleep watching the lights.  Yeah, it’s silly, but I love it.”

“Traditions are important,” Steve says, rolling his head to look more firmly at her.  “The Avengers are great at breaking traditions, which is equally as important, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes...Thank you for sharing your family’s with me.”

Darcy, feeling particularly playful and affectionate towards Steve right then, plucks the bow from her head and presses it to Steve’s forehead, laughing at the consternation that takes over the wrinkles of his forehead.  “Traditions are well and good, for sure. But breaking and twisting them and turning them into something new? That’s even better. I’ve never brought anyone who wasn’t family home for Christmas, you know? So this is something new for both of us.  And, I am so incredibly glad that you’re the person I brought home with me.” 

She stretches over to kiss him, trying to pour all of the words she can’t say directly into his mouth instead.  All too eagerly, he kisses her back, mouth opening under hers as his hands cup her face, thumbs stroking over her cheekbones.  Steve shifts, twisting about so that he can roll Darcy onto her back and press his body firmly against hers. 

The moment is slightly broken by the squeal of rubber below them, and a sudden dip downwards as Steve’s knee manages to apply pressure in just the wrong spot to send Darcy’s chin banging against his shoulder.  “What happens if we break the mattress?” he mumbles, chasing after her mouth.

“We’ll take the chance,” she fires back with a smirk, pulling Steve in for another kiss that manages to knock the bow right off his head to the floor, forgotten for much more important things.

**********

The sound of a phone chirping cuts through the slumber bubble Darcy’s got going on, with a sleeping Steve tucked against her chest on one side, and a veritable pile of blankets on the other.  It’s warm and cozy and still drowsy and clouded outside, the snow still softly falling and banking up against the windows and who on earth is texting her at...8:30 a.m.? On Christmas, of all days?  

She wriggles an arm out of the pile of blankets and scoops up her phone from where it’s vibrating on the floor.  Then she has to bite back the groan, because of course Jane would be the one texting her this early in the morning.

Darcy unlocks her phone, rolling her eyes hard when she sees the message Jane sent:  _ ‘Please tell me you didn’t kill Captain America and leave him dead in a ditch somewhere in Jersey?’ _

Her mind whirls about, flipping through countless options.  She could lie, keep up the just friends facade they’ve got going, because what they’ve got is nobody’s business but theirs...but this is Jane.  The woman who’s had Darcy’s back through thick and thin over the last few years, and who’s been able to give Darcy a life she never could have imagined that first day she’d walked into class at Culver University.  If anyone’s earned the right to be welcomed into the inner circle of this relationship, it’s Jane Foster.

The picture Darcy sends to Jane in response is subtle, but it says more than enough.  Two sets of bare feet are propped up on the end of an air mattress, one male, one female, poking out from a few bright, fuzzy mismatched blankets.  The woman’s left foot is bound up in an air cast and propped up on a pillow, silver nail polish on the toes glinting in the cold light filtering in from outside.  The cardigan Steve had been wearing the night before somehow landed on top of the blankets over their legs, and it’s all too easy to see the shape and patterns of the sweater in the picture.

With a grin she clicks send, then drops the phone back to floor as she wraps her arm around Steve’s shoulders once more, pulling him close and drifting back off to sleep for just a little bit longer.


End file.
